All The Stars
by silkencrow
Summary: Abigail Tyler has never fit in. At least, that's how she's always felt. In a family full of people with big personalities, her introverted tendencies labeled her as "odd" from a young age. She knows that her sister and mom love her, but there's always just been something missing. Something out of her reach, a dream she was always reaching for, but could never touch. Until now.
1. Chapter 1

I had a lot of wishes.

I wished that my family had just _a little_ more money, so that Rose could go to college.

I wished that my mom could finally find someone who _really_ made her happy.

I wished I could've done more than trade school.

I wished that the stars would reach down and take me away.

But wishes were just that. Unanswered dreams.

"Abigail!"

I startled out of my internal monologue so hard that my hand collided with the pencil cup on the counter, causing pens to scatter all over. David was staring at me with a barely suppressed smile, clearly having been calling my name more than once. The pens are quickly collected, and the pencil cup righted by David. He was nice, nicer than I deserved, honestly. He didn't judge me for my "space-out" moments, nor did he get annoyed when I ignored him. Ignored wasn't really the right word, though. I just tended to lose interest relatively quickly…

"Sorry, David. What did you say?" The crackle in my voice evident, probably from underuse. My job, as a librarian, gave me hours of quiet in the library, so it wasn't uncommon for me to go a whole shift without talking.

Not that that was something I minded, in fact I preferred it. No one in my family knows where my introverted nature came from, seeing as my mother is rather… _opinionated,_ and Rose could make friends with a fish. Our dad, according to mom, was outgoing as well. A businessman through and through.

So, as it happens, I became the "odd" one of the family and thus was given _extra_ attention.

All I wanted, at a near 80% of the time, was some peace and quiet.

Another one of my wishes.

"—is totally off her rocker, but Jeff's billing skills are rubbish, so it has to be her. Who would have thought finances would be a big part of running a public library," David chuckles and glances at me. My expression must have said a lot, because he coughed awkwardly before continuing. "Anyways, your shifts been over for about 30 minutes. And Jessica didn't want to...uh-disturb you, so she asked me to let you know she's here. She's just brewing a cuppa."

Ah yes. Jessica didn't want to "disturb" me. How _nice_ of her.

The urge to roll my eyes almost surpasses my desire to remain unaffected. In the end, I don't want David to think anything's wrong, so my eyes remain properly stationary.

"Thanks, David," I mumble, reaching under the counter to snatch my satchel, "See you tomorrow then."

He smiles, once again being too nice to me, before wishing me a good night and heading back to his office.

Rose's shift at the shop should be over in about 20, and it'll take me 5 to walk over there. Maybe we can go for chips on the way home. Rose never denies a chance to eat chips.

Rose work at a department store in the shopping district. It's always crowded, even at this time later in the evening, and I never traverse it unless I'm meeting Rose. I text her as I walk, letting her know about the chips. As expected she responds enthusiastically, spouting something about "man-hunting" while we're out. I choose to ignore that, simply because she already knows my response.

I'm just not interested in spending my time searching for Mr. Right. That's not to say that I don't want to find love, it just means that I believe there's someone out there for me and I don't need to rush them. They'll find me or I'll find them when we're meant to, and we'll go from there.

The streets are bustling with people like I predicted. I consider just heading home - large crowds make me nervous. Henrik's comes into view soon enough; the massive store looms above me like an annoying crow. I want to cringe on behalf of my sister. She absolutely hates her job, but she doesn't want to do A-Levels, or go to trade school like I did, so there aren't many places she can work with only a high school diploma.

"Hey, Tony," I greet the door guard on my way in, "I'm just here for Rose." He smiles, nodding his assent, but suddenly jerks like he remembered something.

"Oh hey! Can you take this and tell Rose to give it to Wilson before she leaves? She should be coming out of the staff lobby right about now," he asks hurriedly, reaching into his pocket to pull out a bag full of money.

"Sure. Have a good night," my lips tip up in what I hope is a friendly smile. It's not much, probably, but I have to try anyways.

Rose is as Tony said, coming out of the staff lounge with Kristi and Laura. They're having a rather intense conversation from the looks of it. _Probably gossiping._

"Hey, Rose." She immediately parts from her co-workers with a smile.

"Hey! What's that?" She points to the bag in my hands and I toss it to her. She catches it easily, letting loose a groan.

"It's for Wilson, apparently," I relay.

She nods with a roll of her eyes. Common occurrence I guess.

"Yeah, Wilson's in the basement," she leads me to the lift as she explains, "and it's _so_ creepy down there. I've told Tony a million times to stop taking the piss and just do it himself."

Her ranting makes me smile, but I don't comment past an agreeable hum. I've never been one for casual conversation, but I love to listen. Most people find my lack verbal responses awkward, and I can't really blame them. It's hard to carry on with a one-sided conversation. That's one of the best things about my sister, she's used to my silence and small responses and doesn't mind it.

She's right about the basement though. As soon as we step off the lift, I feel it. It's like we aren't supposed to be here. The yellow of the lights seems more ominous than it should, casting spindly shadows along the grey cement walls.

"Rose," I mumble, but she shouts as soon as I start, calling out Wilson's name. I follow her as she walks purposefully towards a door with Wilson's name on it. She calls to him again. No response.

She opens the door to his office slowly, cautiously. The small room is sans Wilson. My paranoia increases.

"Rose, just leave it on his desk so we can get out of here," I mumble, but once again she doesn't hear me. Or she's ignoring me. Either is a possibility. Where I'm curious for information mentally, Rose tends to be curious physically. I'd take an in-depth explanation over investigation any day.

Despite the foreboding feeling trying to crawl its way up my spine, I follow her. I'd follow her anywhere, and unfortunately for me, that's gotten me into a few unsavory situations over the years. Like when she wanted to egg her ex-boyfriend's car. I got arrested covering for Rose, and the only reason it didn't go on my record was because the officer who arrested me hated Jimmy's dad. As far as lucky moments in my life, that's about as lucky as I've ever been.

Rose and I pass through some doors into what looks like a storage area. I freeze not even ten steps into the room.

There's mannequins everywhere.

My heart stutters. Oh please, not mannequins. This is like a scene from one of my reoccurring nightmares.

"Rose," my panicked murmur doesn't reach her though, covered up by a bang that sounds from behind me. I whip my head around, running to the doors before I even knew I wanted to move, my hands desperately grasping for the handles.

They're locked. Won't budge.

I hear Rose going on about someone named Derek needing to stop mucking about. She's walking deeper into the room, unaware of my silent turmoil.

We're locked in a room. In a basement. With mannequins.

I try once again in vain to jiggle the doors open. Shakily, I shove away from them.

"Alright! I've had about enough of this now," Rose yells. I turn to her, but she's already looking at me. My feet once again move preemptively.

"Rose, the doors—" I cut myself off at the expression on her face. She's looking at something over my shoulder, confusion and fear prominent in her features. I gulp, turning my head slowly to face whatever's behind me. _Please don't be an axe murderer. Please don't be an axe murderer._

My eyes rest on a mannequin. Standing in the middle of the room. In a spot that was previously empty. I suck in a sharp breath.

It moves.

"What?" My horrified whisper sounds like a gunshot in the quiet of the room. Confusion laced in the undertones. How? Is it a costume? If this is a prank (Derek?) then I don't find it amusing. Pranks don't play out this long anyways...by now the person should be taking off the costume saying "ha got you!". We begin slowly backing away from it until the feeling of cold cement hits my back. At least six more mannequins had started to move and now they were choppily advancing on us.

"This is literally my worst nightmare," I whisper. Rose glances at me briefly, concern lighting her eyes.

"Stop this! I said stop this now, it's not funny anymore!" She yells at them. The mannequin closest to us doesn't stop, instead raising its arm in a threatening movement. But it's just plastic, even if they hit us, it can't possibly hurt that much right?

My thoughts freeze. When did I start considering them to be sentient plastic, rather than the more plausible explanation of dressed up humans, like Rose obviously still thought?

Maybe I've finally lost it.

A loud yelp escapes me when a large hand suddenly grips my left one. I grab Rose's instinctively and whip around to the side to face the stranger. I'm able to register blue eyes before things get chaotic.

"Run."

The stranger yanks me after him, causing me to yank Rose, and we're off. Weaving through boxes and crates to an exit Rose and I must have missed. We pass through the doors and into a hallway. I stumble. The stranger grips my hand tighter, pulling me enough that I regain balance. I can hear the sounds of quick footsteps behind us, so I turn my head.

A horde of mannequins stampedes after us.

We reach the lift just as the mannequins start to seriously gain on us, and before the doors can completely close one of them shoves their arm through to stop the lift. The stranger lets go of my hand to wrestle with it. The loss of contact makes the little sense of calm I felt dissipate. Before I can properly analyze why the hell _that_ was my reaction, I'm distracted by the man literally popping the mannequin's arm off.

Well. Looks like my sentient plastic theory was right. Yay.

"You pulled his arm off!" Rose shouts at the man in disbelief. He tosses her the arm and she catches it clumsily.

"Yup, plastic," the man says like it explains everything. He glances at me briefly, but I'm so caught up in my confusion and panic that I barely notice.

"Very clever, nice trick. So, what, are they students or something?"

"No," I answer Rose's question distractedly, gently taking the arm out of Rose's hands. Rose uses anger to cope a lot of the time, but I've always used my curiosity. I can feel them both looking at me, but my mind has already moved on. The excitement of discovering something so _unknown_ starts to simmer in my mind as I inspect the arm. It's just plastic. There's no gears or anything visible in the socket, and the weight is consistent with silicon...

How can it just be plastic? How can it be sentient? Is it really alive?

"Who's Wilson?"

I tune back in at the sound of the lift doors opening, and look at the man. He was doing something to the control panel with a metal instrument the length of my hand. The blue tip glowed and made a strange noise, causing sparks to burst from the panel. Shorting it out? What was that?

"Chief electrician," Rose answers his question while covering her eyes slightly. The man pauses for barely half a second before walking forward.

"Wilson's dead."

"That's not funny! That's sick, and I've absolutely had enough. What's going on?" She yells, and I can tell she's about to go full Jackie on this stranger. I'd never met Wilson, but my heart aches for him. The best way to honor his death though, is to make sure no one else falls victim to the same fate.

"What are they?" I ask the man lowly, coming to walk next to him. He looks down at me as he answers.

"Living plastic. They're being controlled by a relay device on the roof," he answers me. Before he can continue I lift up the arm and shake it for emphasis on my next words.

"There are no gears, or anything metal for that matter, on the arm. So, even if they were being controlled it can't be electronically. Also, the movements were too fluid. You said "living" which would make sense, actually, because of what I just said, but it's...there's just...I mean how—"

"Abby, stop," Rose snaps. I snap my mouth shut and shrink back, not even realizing that I'd started to raise my voice in excitement. My face burns with shame. A man died and I'm getting excited about the thing that killed him.

I can feel the man's eyes on me, but refuse to look up, choosing instead to fiddle more with the arm.

"The relay would be a great big problem, if I didn't have this!" The man continues, ignoring my rant, and pulling out what I can only assume is a bomb from his jacket pocket. "So I'm gonna go upstairs, and blow it up. Now, I might well die in the process, but don't you girls worry about that."

My eyes widen, and I catch his as he opens the alley door, shaking my head in a gesture I hope says _don't do it._ He just smiles and winks at me, gesturing for us to go on out.

"Now go on home and have your lovely beans on toast. And don't tell anybody about what you saw, cause if you do, you'll get them killed."

And with that he shuts the door.

I turn to Rose. Still cradling the arm. Confusion almost literally pouring off of me. She looks just as stumped as I am, if not more. I open my mouth - to say what, I don't know - but before the words can come out the door behind me reopens. I whip back around.

"I'm the Doctor, by the way. What're your names?"

"Rose," she answers immediately. I hesitate, but the expectant look on the Doctor's face makes me concede.

"Abigail," I mumble, and the Doctor smiles.

"Nice to meet you. Now, run for your lives!" He exclaims jovially, once again closing the door with a resounding bang. I waste no time hoofing it away, having to run back to Rose, who's too confused to even move at first. We make it a block away before Henrik's explodes. Rose and I exchange disbelieving and worried looks. _He actually had a bomb!_

"Come on," I grab Rose's hand, "let's leave before the authorities get here."

Mom's already heard about it when we finally walk through the front door. She tackles us in a hug, tears running down her face. We stay like that for a bit, until the house phone rings, pulling our mother quickly from our arms. Immediately after answering she starts going off about compensation. I slip past her and Rose with a resigned chuckle. That's Jackie for you. The TV is already on in the living room, switched to a news channel with an Asian woman giving coverage on the fire. I flop carelessly down onto the couch and turn the volume up.

"Fire crew are still working to suppress the fire, but they say there's no saving the structure…"

Rose plops down on the couch next to me, taking the arm from my grasp, which I completely forgot I was holding.

"Bloody insane, this is," she grumbles, tossing the arm onto the love seat. _Right you are, sister._

"Where's mom?"

Rose takes my hand, giving it a squeeze, before letting go and waving her hand in the direction of the kitchen.

"On the phone, gossiping," she says irritably. I sigh. The front door opens, and two seconds later Mickey Smith comes rushing into the room. I sigh once more.

"I've been phoning you! You could've been dead!" He exclaims immediately. I get up and move to the love seat, giving the couple some room. Rose's boyfriend can be a lot to handle sometimes.

"I saw it on the tele, I can't believe that your shop went up," he continues, sitting down next to Rose and tackling her in a hug.

"I'm alright, honestly. Don't make a fuss," she cringes. He settles back, glancing at me and giving a nod of greeting. I do the same.

"What was it though, what happened?" He turns his attention back to Rose.

She shakes her head, "I don't know. I wasn't in the shop. I was outside, didn't see anything."

"Abby! I've got Debbie on the line, and she knows an interviewer from The Mirror who would pay you 500 quid to go on," Mom hustles into the living room, clutching the phone to her chest.

"Mom, I don't work there. The company would probably say I was trespassing, and defeat any chance of settlement," I chuckle a little at Mickey's gasp of surprise.

"You were there too?!"

Rose rolls her eyes at him, but addresses Mom instead. "Really? That's brilliant, give it here." She holds her hand out for the phone and Mom eagerly plops it into her hand. Rose immediately ends the call. I laugh as Mom frowns angrily.

"Well, you've got to find some way of making money! And unless you want to go to trade school like Abby, you haven't got many options!" The phone rings before she can continue her rant, and she answers it excitedly, heading back into the kitchen. Rose releases a heavy breath, and I feel her tiredness in myself.

"I have work tomorrow, so I'm heading off to bed," my body sluggishly lifts itself from the love seat, "Goodnight."

They wish me a good night, and I reach my head into the kitchen to say goodnight to mom. She tells whoever she's on with to hold just a minute before stepping over to me with a small smile.

"Sweetheart, I'm glad you're okay," she clutches me in a tight hug, "Sleep well. And maybe take tomorrow off, yeah?"

"Maybe," I concede, "See you in the morning."

My pajamas are on in record time and as soon as I've snuggled into the sheets, my eyes drift shut. The color blue flutters through my consciousness briefly and I faintly hear a word before sleep claims me completely.

 _Run_


	2. Chapter 2

"Mornin, Abby. I thought you had work?"

Rose sits down across from me at the kitchen table, picking up an apple from the basket in the middle. I still find it funny that mom buys apples, even though no one eats them. The fact that Rose picked one up at all clues me into just how much she's still thinking about last night. I don't blame her. I got about five hours of sleep before I woke up in a cold sweat, having dreamt about plastic monsters trying to eat me. Then, once I was awake, all I could think about was that man. Who was he? How did he know about the plastic? He obviously wasn't police, although he did have a military-like confidence about him. Out of all the unanswered questions that raced through my mind, there was one that haunted me the most.

Did he make it out?

"Abby~," Rose intones with a laugh. My cheeks redden.

"Morning, sis. I did, but decided to call in sick. I'm still...a little shaken up...about last night."

"Yeah, me too," she sighs, "plus I've got no job now."

Rose doesn't look that upset about it. In fact, despite what happened, there's something new in her eyes. A shine...a fire in the depths, drawn forth by curiosity and the sense of _more._

My own soul burns in tandem. A wish has come closer than ever before. One question balances on the precipice.

Will I have the courage to take hold of it?

"What about Finch's," Mom comments from the kitchen. She joins us at the table with an imploring look Rose's way. Rose rolls her eyes. "Yeah, great. The butcher's."

"Well it's not like you have many options," she scolds, "And I'm not joking about compensation! You've had genuine shock and trauma."

The corner of Rose's eye twitches, and I have to hold back a smirk at her expense. After a few more comments from mom, I decide to take pity on my sister.

"Hey, Mom," I interject with innocence, "aren't you meeting with Debbie in an hour?"

"Oh! Is it 9 already?" She exclaims, jumping up from the table and rushing to her room. Rose chuckles, sending me a small smile.

"Thanks, Abs."

"Yup," I chuckle, "She's just trying to help, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," she waves her hand in abject agreement. We sit in contemplative silence for awhile before she brightens all of a sudden, smacking her hand on the table. I raise an eyebrow in silent question at her antics.

"Let's corroborate what happened last night! I think it'd be a good idea to write everything down, just in case we, I don't know, end up going to the police maybe…"

I was nodding before she even finished. That did seem like a good idea, yes. That way we could also expand on what we saw, maybe try to make sense of it all.

"Okay. I'll go get a notebook and pen from our room." I agree, pushing away from the table. The apartment only has two bedrooms, so Rose and I share a room. We've always gotten along, so the cramped four walls never really posed much of a problem. The room split almost evenly in half by our different color preferences. Her side overflowed with shades of pink, cluttered with knick knacks of all kinds. My side looked significantly more tame with plum purple and grey tones. I've been told on many occasions that my side of the room reflects my personality. Once, I asked Mickey what personality that was exactly.

His respond had been to laugh, and then proceed to say, "Nothing bad, just that you're rather...normal?"

Before that wonderful conversation, never in my life had I thought the word _normal_ could be so insulting to hear. Oh well.

Rose had always been the more chaotically beautiful one, anyways.

My favorite pen wasn't in the place I usually left it, which probably means its within the depths of Rose's territory. Before I can dutifully begin my search, I hear a noise. It's coming from the front door, sounding almost like scratching at the cat-flap.

"Mom!" I shout from my crouched position next to Rose's bed, "You closed the cat-flap when Rose told you to a couple of weeks ago, right?"

"Yeah, nailed it shut." She sounds confused by my asking, so she's obviously telling the truth. I hum in puzzlement, giving up on my search in lieu of a new mystery. The front door itself looks in tack, so I turn my attention to the cat-flap. There're screws lying on the floor below it. My curiosity turns into slight fear when the flap jerks open randomly, like something pushed on it. I gulp, but bend down and reach my hand out anyways. It shakes as I push up the flap, bending my body even more to properly see through the small opening. What I see on the other side shocks me, while at the same time I feel like a weight is lifted off my shoulders.

It was the Doctor.

Quickly dropping the flap, I jump up and pull the door open as fast as humanly possible. Leather, blue eyes, and big ears greet me on the other side.

The Doctor's brow furrows in consternation.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, a suspicious edge to his voice. I take no notice to it.

My hand reaches out towards him as I answer unthinkingly, "I live here." He scoffs.

"Well what'd you do that for?" My finger sinks into the leather at his shoulder, and he raises his eyebrows. The blue of his eyes is shocking. Everything about him seems so _intangible._ I just want to make sure he's real. That I'm not crazy.

"Cause I do," I mumble, poking him again. The leather of his jacket is stiff, like its the first time he's worn it. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Must have got the wrong signal," he says, completely ignoring my repetitive poking, "You're not plastic are you?" He reaches up and knocks on my head like he's knocking on a door. I jerk back, more at his words than really at his actions. Was that a possibility? Can they turn humans into plastic?

"Nope. Bone head. Bye then!"

"Wait!" My hand grasps his before I even think about it, halting his exit. I can't let him leave when I still don't know anything!

Once again he raises his eyebrows at me, and I feel my face heat up, but I don't drop his hand. It's warm, warmer than a hand should be. I once again find a weird sense of comfort from touching him. It's concerning...but hardly a priority at the moment. I need him to stay, explain things. Even if I can't make him explain _everything_. There's one question that takes precedence over my curiosity.

"I-I don't know what happened yesterday, and I get the feeling that I probably won't completely understand, but at least tell me this," I take a deep breath, looking into his eyes to gauge his honesty.

"Are people still in danger?"

Immediately, his eyes brighten. Not in excitement, no, but rather in recognition of something. Something I can't see or don't know about. He opens his mouth, but the answer never leaves it, because Rose finally notices us.

"Oi!" She practically shoves me out of the way and grabs the Doctor by the shoulder, roughly tugging him into the apartment. "You. Inside, now!"

He stumbles after her, a look of indignation flashing across his feature. I cover my mouth to stop from giggling. His eyes snap to me and narrow, like he knows I'm internally laughing at his expense. My eyebrows raise in silent challenge.

"Who's at the door?" Mom yells from her room. I give Rose a look that says _You deal with her this time,_ before walking into the living room and sitting down.

If people are still in danger, if my family is in danger...I have to help him. Logically, it doesn't make sense that I even could, since I know absolutely nothing about the situation. But the thought of just standing by and letting whatever's happening continue...my stomach turns just considering it. There's so much I'm confused about though. How are we in danger from plastic? Obviously, it's a real threat, or the Doctor wouldn't have gone and blown up a building to stop it. If they, whoever _they_ are, can turn humans into plastic, then the threat becomes rather obvious. Although, how did the plastic become sentient? Become evil? Is it even evil? Or is there a semi legitimate reason behind it all? If you think about it though, using something as inconspicuous as plastic to take over the world is positively genius.

I chuckle at my own speculation. I should be more worried, probably, but I just can't find it in me to be freaked out while the Doctor is here. I know he'll figure it out.

My thoughts stutter.

Why am I automatically trusting him? I've _no idea_ who he is. It's the same as when he held my hand at Henrik's. Almost like, as long as he did so, as long as he was near, everything would turn out alright.

"Abigail. Kind of an old-fashioned name, don't you think?"

My focus sharpens into the present, eyes quickly meeting the Doctor's. He's smiling, like there's a joke I missed and he's waiting for the moment it occurs to me.

"Old fashioned...I feel like I've somehow traveled to the future with everything that's happened," I mumble distractedly. "I assume most people must thinks it's old fashioned as well, seeing as how everyone calls me Abby." His smile widens.

"To answer your question," he speaks up, fiddling with a deck of cards I didn't notice were in his hands, "the problem is not resolved. People are still in danger."

I stand up unconsciously as my mind spins with theories, "Doesn't that mean the source wasn't at the shop? And you said relay, so that must mean that it was planted to extend a signal. And who is controlling it? I have a feeling you know, but..." I trail off when the same scuttling sound from before reaches my ear. The Doctor mustn't have heard it, because he continues to stare at me with a weird look. Pride? Happiness? Sadness?

The scuttling happens again, this time louder, catching the Doctor's attention.

"What's that then? Have you got a cat?"

I shake my head no, turning around as the noise sounds once again from behind the couch. The Doctor joins me, and we lean forward to see. It happens before either of us can react.

Something flies up, latching onto my throat, causing me to stumble back with a strangled cry. In the back of my mind I think _it's the bloody plastic arm_.

The Doctor immediately starts trying to pry the arm off of me, instead causing it's grip to tighten, cutting off my circulation. Rose chooses this moment to finally join us. She barely even glances at our struggle before rolling her eyes.

"You boys are all the same, give em a plastic arm...But why the hell are you feeding into it Abby? That's not like you," she sighs, setting the coffees on the table, "I thought I told Mickey to throw that thing away last night…Anyways, I really think we should go to the police."

The room starts to blur, a small gasp escaping my mouth in a feeble attempt to suck in air. My lungs stutter. A sudden thought passes through the fog of pain.

 _Please don't let me die by mannequin arm!_

As though in answer to my silent prayer, the Doctor finally wrenches it off. My body crashes to the floor with a thud, and I greedily gulp in air. The Doctor loses his grip and the arm swings around mid fall.

Rose has half a second to be completely stunned, before the arm rushes her and palms her face aggressively.

"Rose!" I croak. My throat aches, I can already feel bruises forming, but I don't stop. I tackle Rose, sitting on her stomach and leveraging my foot on the ground. The Doctor grabs my shoulders and together we pull. With a pop the arm comes off. The Doctor quickly snatches it from my hands and shoves his blue device into its palm, making it freeze up.

Then the Doctor is pulling me up, tossing the hand down to a flabbergasted Rose as she sits up, and sitting me down onto the couch. He kneels in front of me.

"It's alright, I've stopped it," he says. I go to thank him, but stop when he shakes his head. The hands on my forearms move to cup my head, and he gently tilts it back.

"Oh, my god," Rose breathes when she joins the Doctor, inspecting my neck as well. "I'm so sorry, Abs. I just—I mean—"

"She'll be fine," the Doctor interrupts with a slight edge. Rose switches gears at the tone of his voice, instead glaring at him and whacking him with the now immobile arm.

"Ow!"

"Don't _ow_ me mister! You've got so much explaining to do!" He looks at me, the apology clear in his eye, but his only response is to pat my cheek twice before standing up. My eyes widen as he makes his exit, without saying a word. Rose jumps into action instantly.

"Hold on a minute! You just can't go swanning off!"

She dashes out the front door after him, but I can't find the motivation to run right now. Plus, Rose is in full-on Jackie mode, so I know she'll interrogate the Doctor persistently and properly. To pass the time I start that list of everything that happened yesterday, as well as force myself to drink some chamomile. It hurts to swallow, but I know it'll help in the long run. The list takes an hour, mostly because I add a theory to everything I write down. Still no word from Rose, but my thoughts are easily occupied. I fall into my head space.

Rose calls an hour later, the blaring tone of my cellphone jolting me back to reality.

"I met with this Clive chap," she starts without even a hello, "And he says that the Doctor has been around forever! He had pictures and everything, but I'll explain more about that later, I don't really want to get into it now. Mickey and I are heading over to St. Claire's to have a bit of pizza. We'll meet you there!" She hangs up. I'd be a little offended if I wasn't so curious, and if I didn't know my sister so well.

St. Claire's is only a ten minute walk from the estate, so it doesn't take long to get there. They've already got themselves a table when I walk in. As I approach them, my eyes snap to Mickey first.

What the hell? Why is he smiling like that? His face looks so stiff…

"Just tell me about the Doctor," Mickey finishes saying, a weird consistency to his voice. Like he's talking through a receiver.

"Mickey, I told you I don't want to talk about him right now," Rose turns to me with a smile, "Hey, Abs, how's the throat?"

"It's fine…" I sneak another glance at Mickey as I sit. He's glaring at me subtly. Something in his eyes make me shiver. Those aren't Mickey's eyes.

"What's wrong with him?" I whisper at Rose, inclining my head in his direction. She gives me a confused look. Mickey distracts her again by asking about the Doctor. At the edge of my consciousness, there's an answer. Something the Doctor said...about the plastic…

"Oh my god," realization washes over me, "Rose, that's not Mick-"

"Is anyone going to take this champagne?"

"For the last time, we didn't order any-" Mickey stops when he sees who's standing there, "Ah, there you are."

By the time my brain catches up to my body, I'm standing next to the Doctor, my hand clutching his forearm.

"Doctor, I don't think that's Mickey," I mumble quickly. He smiles without turning towards me.

"Don't mind me!" he begins shaking the bottle, "Just toasting the happy couple!" The cork shoots out hitting Mickey in the forehead, but instead of bouncing off, it sinks into his head.

Then he spits it out his mouth.

I blanch. Mickey smirks.

"Right then."

Chaos ensues, as seems to be the theme with this blue eyed man. Mickey's hand morphs into a rectangle, and he starts to smash everything in his path. Patrons in the restaurant are screaming, the Doctor is attacking Mickey, putting him in a headlock, and I haven't moved an inch. It all happened so fast.

My frozen state changes when the Doctor pulls Mickey's head off.

"Don't think that'll stop me." the head snarls. The body swings around to Rose and I, taking an aggressive step towards us.

My body thaws instantly.

Two strides get me to the fire alarm and I pull it.

"Rose!" She must know I meant for her to follow me, because she does without further prompting. I race to the back exit, hoping that the body will follow us this way, and not the crowd of customers that are rushing out the front. We burst into the back alley and my eyes frantically search for an exit. There's only one, a gate, but I can see the padlock from here. My heart sinks.

Then an idea strikes. The gate is too tall for one person to climb over on their own, but there's two of us!

"Rose, come on!" I snatch her hand and run to the gate. "I'm going to boost you up."

"What?!" She rips her hand out of mine, "Are you kidding me? I'm not leaving you!"

"Rose," I say quickly, "You can go get help. You're faster than me and if anyone was going to be able to convince the police that we need help, it'd definitely be you." My voice sounds calm, reasonable. On the inside, my heart beats out of control. I'm scared for myself, but I'm more scared for Rose. If anything happened to her, I'd never be able to face mom again.

"Rose," I plead. She ignores me, looking at something over my shoulder.

"Doctor! Open the gate with your tube thingy!" She yells frantically. I spin, having forgotten about the Doctor in my panic to get Rose away from danger. He's standing next to a blue Public Call Box that I also hadn't noticed in my panic, staring at us.

Our eyes connect, and once again I find myself lost in the blue. Confused by the look in them as he watches me. It's ancient, deep. It's familiar.

I don't realize I'm holding my breath until his expression breaks swiftly into a smile, dispelling the tense feeling within me, and I take a shaky inhale.

"Let's go in here, then," he says jovially, gesturing with Mickey's severed head to follow him. I do with hesitation, wondering what could possibly be in there that would help us. I hear Rose yelling angrily behind me, but I continue, knowing she'll follow me.

As I get closer, warmth bleeds into me from the box. Instincts are telling me I should be warry, but I ignore my gut. The Doctor left the door ajar, and I chance a peek inside.

My mind blanks for a second. It's bigger.

On the inside.

This is proof. Not everything is as it seems. One of my wishes, one I didn't even know I had.

 _Come inside._

And the wish falls gently into my waiting hands.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as my body passes through the threshold, I know my future has changed. The warmth emanating from the box intensifies once I'm inside. It feels like a hug. The walls are brown, with hexagonal grooves in a grid pattern all along them. There's arches, the same color as the walls, and they look modern and ancient. Just like all this. A contradiction.

"He's gonna get in!" Rose barrels into me from behind, roughly breaking me out of my thoughts. She whips the door shut.

"The assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't get through that door," The Doctor's voice sounds excited, "And believe me, they've tried. Now shut up a minute."

The...device...at the center of the room passed by my radar, but now that I've noticed it, it's all I can see. Blue tubes encased in a clear cylinder structure move up and down very slowly, emitting a small, pleasant sound. The panel that wraps 360 degrees around the cylinder is something I can't even begin to describe. It's got all sorts of switches and lever and buttons. It's completely chaotic, but a smile tugs at my lips. _Chaotic._ Just like the Doctor.

"You see the arm was too simple, but the head is perfect." With a jolt I realize I'd come to stand next to the Doctor, and he's explaining himself to me. My focus sharpens on what he said. _Too simple. Relay._ He's connecting what looks like auxiliary cables into the temples of the head. _Ooh. Oh!_

"You're trying to do something about the signal?" my voice is quiet, but decidedly enthusiastic. His answering smile could power the whole of London, and for one fleeting second I realize something odd.

He's beautiful.

"I can use it to trace the signal back to the original source," he confirms, equally excited. I push my odd realization to the very back of my mind, since there are more important things at hand. Like the fact that Mickey is now plastic. Or maybe that's a plastic duplicate of him. Either way Mickey is most likely in danger, hopefully he's okay…

"Right!" the Doctor finishes with the head, and turns around to address Rose, "Where do you want to start?"

Rose looks absolutely shell shocked, but she starts somewhere anyways. "Um...it's bigger on the inside…"

"Yup," he confirms simply. I hope he'll explain that eventually. The curiosity is killing me.

"It's alien," she continues hesitantly. I pause. _Of course!_ Why hadn't I come to that conclusion? Then a crazy, undeniably logical question occurs to me.

"Are you alien?" At his pause, I think maybe he didn't hear my quiet inquiry, but eventually he glances at me with caution clear in his blue eyes. Like he's afraid of my response. He turns back to Rose before answering.

"Yes," Rose just stares, like she's in shock. I can't blame her, with everything around us. A part of me, the part of me that's always kind of liked _normal,_ keeps trying to convince me that I'll wake up soon. That this...alien...that's brought so much into my life in only _two days_ is just a dream. Just another wish that I can't reach.

"Is that alright?" the Doctor asks after the brief silence, sounding just a little unsure.

"Yeah," Rose replies, but she sounds distracted. The Doctor accepts her answer anyways and turns to me expectantly. I don't know what he sees in my face, but it makes him go serious, taking half a step closer to me.

"Abigail?" I look into his eyes. They're full of sadness, and my own heart constricts at being the one to put it there. My hand unconsciously moves to his shoulder, and I almost pull it away when he tenses, but somehow I know it's okay. I give his tense shoulder a squeeze, then let my hand drop back to my side.

"Honestly, Doctor," I try not to mumble, "At this point, it would be more concerning if you weren't."

He chuckles, bounding back into his good mood almost instantly. "It's called the TARDIS!" He swings his arms wide like a showman. "That's _Time And Relative Dimensions In Space._ "

"Relative dimensions? Time _and_ dimensions. Does that mean that time is consistent, even in different dimensions?" By the end my voice has risen, louder than usual in my excitement. "That's fantastic!"

The Doctor is staring at me, confused but smiling. "Has anyone ever told you that you have _quite_ a unique way of thinking?"

A blush rapidly covers my cheeks at his words, and I break eye contact out of embarrassment. I've no idea if that was meant as a compliment, but either way, it was to me.

I hear a sniffle come from Rose, and my heart sinks. Just like with Wilson, I'm getting excited about things when people's lives are in serious danger.

 _I'm such a horrible sister._

"Rose," I rush to her side, enveloping her in a tight hug, "he might still be alive. Don't lose hope yet," I whisper softly in her ear. A sob slips through her lips, but she visibly fights against her tears. I release her, but keep a hand resting gently on her shoulder.

"That's okay. Culture shock. Happens to the best of us."

I turn quickly to the Doctor with a panicked look. _That is so not the problem._ I open my mouth to tell him so, but Rose flares up before I can get a word out.

"Did they kill him? Mickey?" She asks the Doctor, a noticeable edge to her voice. I want to roll my eyes at his confused look. He glances at me for help, and I take pity by subtly pointing to the head. Realization lights his eyes, but his next words only serve to ignite the spark.

"Oh, I didn't think of that."

"He's my boyfriend. You pulled his head off," she gets angrier at her own words, "They copied him! And you didn't even think!"

He looks to me for help, but I raise my eyebrows in a look I hope translates to _there's nothing I can do for you now._ Rose has locked on target, no stopping her anymore. When Rose gets mad, she gets _livid._

"And now you're just gonna let him melt?!" she continues hysterically.

"Melt?" the Doctor and I ask simultaneously. We turn in tandem to the head, the Doctor exclaiming when we see that it is in fact, melting.

"Aw, no, no, no, no!" he yells, running around the panel, flipping switches and pulling levers. It'd look completely random, if not for the intense concentration on his face.

"What are you doing?" Rose yells exasperated. The Doctor glances my way before focusing back on his task.

"He's trying to trace the signal using the head. I'm assuming if the head melts, the signal disappears," I tell her quickly. She looks at me with a mixture of anger and surprise. Ignoring her stare for now, I look back at the Doctor. He's staring intently at a screen.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" he exclaims again, flinging a lever violently. The TARDIS starts to make a weird groan-like noise, and then shakes violently. Once. Twice. Are we moving? There's no way, unless the TARDIS was also a spaceship or something.

 _Oh. My. God._

I'm in a spaceship. _Of course it's a spaceship!_

I'm so caught up in my awe that I don't notice the Doctor moving until suddenly he's grabbing my hand.

"You can't go out there! It's not safe," Rose cries after us as we rush past her. We burst through the doors, and my breath catches. We've moved. We're about 30 minutes from the estate, near the London Eye.

It's a spaceship.

The Doctor lets go of my hand in lieu of pacing, muttering to himself.

"Was the signal lost?" He nods his head in affirmation distractedly.

"We've moved," Rose makes me almost jump out of my skin, I didn't hear her come up next to me. "Does it fly?"

"It disappears there and then reappears here. You wouldn't understand," he snarks. I can tell he's frustrated, so I decide to keep all my newfound questions at bay. He looks at me briefly, likely expecting me to start spouting off. I lift my lips in a miniscule smile.

"If we're somewhere else, what about that thing still on the loose?" Rose questions.

"Melted with the head," he mutters, "Are you going to witter on all night?" I wince at his tone, expecting Rose to respond in kind. She doesn't disappoint.

"I'll have to tell his grandmother," she starts angrily. He looks lost again, and another wince leaves me. He glances in my direction.

"Mickey? I'll have to tell his grandmother he's dead, and you went and forgot him, again!" she huffs, "You're right, you are alien!"

"Look, if I did forget a kid named Mickey-"

"Yeah, he's not a kid."

"-then it's because I'm trying to save the life of every stupid ape on this planet, all right!"

"All right?!"

"Yes, it is!"

They both halt, turning slightly away from each other. I'm caught between wanting to comfort Rose and dispel the tension. Rose makes the decision herself by scoffing and moving on.

"If you're an alien, why do you sound like you're from the North?"

"Lots of planets have a North," he doesn't exactly sneer, but hints of one bleed through his tone. She tries again.

"What's a police call box?"

That question comes close to a mood change, I can see it in his eyes. I answer for him.

"It's a telephone box. Exactly as it says, too. 911 from the past."

The Doctor finally smiles, bounding over to pat his box lovingly. I struggle to suppress a giggle. _Cute._

"Right you are, Abigail!" He looks at Rose, "It's from the 1950s. It's a disguise."

"Okay…" Rose chuckles at both of us. "So, this living plastic, what's it got against us?"

"By "us" she means the apes," I say lightly, but by the Doctor's cringe I can tell he knows I took offense. He continues without commenting.

"Nothing. It loves you. You've got such a good planet, full of smoke and oils. Plenty of toxins and dioxins in the air. Perfect. Just what the Nestene Consciousness needs."

"London passed a law about burning trash, so there has to be significantly less dioxins here, than say, the USA. Why did they decide to come here?" I'd come to stand next to him during my monologue, and when I rested against the TARDIS, another more pressing question occurred to me. The Doctor must have seen me about to start, because he quickly answered my first question.

"It's food stock was destroyed in the war, it's protein planets rotted. So, Earth. Dinner. I suspect they didn't care much about where they landed." I nod distractedly, not completely understanding. As per usual, Rose is able to focus on the main problem.

"Any way of stopping it?" she asks the Doctor solemnly. He smiles knowingly, reaching into his jacket. What he pulls out simply looks like blue liquid in a vile, but his words confirm it's something else.

"Antiplastic."

"Antiplastic?" He turns to me with a smile.

"Antiplastic!" I stare curiously at the tube, and he reads my mind, handing it to me carefully. Cradling the vile in my hands, I hold it close to my face. It looks thick, but when I shake the bottle it seems more watery than syrupy. The Doctor and Rose start to walk away, so I absentmindedly follow them.

I'm definitely holding something alien. The physics of the liquid don't make sense, and although I'm no genius, I know that it's off.

"How exactly-"

"Abby," Rose interrupts, looking befuddled. "Hold on," she looks back at the Doctor, "hide what?"

"The transmitter. The Consciousness is controlling every single piece of plastic, so it needs a transmitter to boost the signal."

"What does it look like?"

"Round and massive," he looks around, "somewhere smack in the middle of London."

"Like a dish?" I ask. He turns to face Rose and I.

"Yes! Like a wheel, should be rather close to where we're standing," he explains. Rose nudges me and points to the London Eye.

"Oh, that's brilliant. You think that's it?" I comment. The Doctor turns his head to see what we're talking about, whipping back around with a confused look.

"What?"

Rose just nods her head towards the ferris wheel with an amused look on her face. He looks again but still doesn't see it. I step up to him, putting my hands on his forearms, and bodily turning him around. I step back, and about five seconds later the light bulb almost visibly goes off. I smile.

"Oh!" he beams at Rose, "Fantastic!"

"What now?" my quiet question barely carries, but the Doctor hears me nonetheless. He smiles in answer before grabbing my hand, and I grab Rose's, then we're racing down the street. For someone who didn't immediately know what we were talking about, he sure does know how to get there.

"Think of it," the Doctor starts once we reach the base of the Eye, "every artificial thing waiting to be alive. The window shop dummies, the phones, the cables, the wires…"

"Breast implants," Rose whispers comically to me. I chuckle, but the Doctor either didn't hear or chooses to ignore us.

"The Consciousness must be somewhere underneath," he mumbles. Rose runs off, presumably to find the entrance, so I follow her, still cradling the antiplastic in my hands. We're searching for barely 20 minutes when Rose spots a possible entrance.

"Doctor, over here!"

He comes up behind us, and Rose points to a round service hatch. The Doctor gives a "sounds good to me", and races down the stairs, Rose immediately following. I hesitate.

What are we doing? Should we be blindly following this stranger, an alien at that, and taking everything he says for truth?

I feel like I can trust him, like he'd always fight for me. But…

 _Why_ do I feel like that?

The ground rumbles and shakes suddenly, jarring me out of my thoughts and into action. My heart rate picks up as I descend the ladder, closer to the supposed enemy. Another enraged gurgling sound shakes the earth once more and my foot slips.

Really, how can my luck be _this_ bad?

The hard cement comes into contact with my body quicker than I expected, knocking the wind out of me. My cry of pain draws the Doctor's attention. He stands before a giant glowing vat of red gelatin-like substance.

"Doctor!" I shout in panic, trying to alert him to the two mannequins sneaking up on him. A pained wheeze escapes instead, and then it's too late. They each grab one of his arms, effectively restraining him. The vat makes another gurgle and the Doctor pales visibly.

"What?" he breathes in devastation. His gaze swivels to me, first coming to rest on the hand that still holds the antiplastic, then traveling up to meet my eyes. The pain I see in them almost makes me forget about my own. I stare back, and suddenly, there it is again.

The familiarity.

The goop makes another strange noise, and the Doctor's fear turns to panic.

"No! She doesn't even know what it is, I swear, it was just a precaution. I wasn't actually going to use it!"

The Consciousness gurgles angrily, and suddenly there's a mannequin standing before me. It's unyielding, hard plastic hands grip my shoulders too tightly as it hauls me up and over to the Doctor.

"Rose?" I gasp in question. He flicks his head up slightly, indicating above us. I look and lock eyes with Rose. She's found Mickey, and he's clinging to her, but all her attention is on us. I try to convey with my eyes for her to get out of here.

"Please, go," I cry to her. I see tears gloss her eyes, but she shakes her head stubbornly.

Another gurgle from the vat, and the mannequin holding me suddenly slams me down onto the ground.

"Oi!" the Doctor rages. My head cracks against the concrete and everything becomes fuzzy. Dully, I watch as the mannequin pulls the antiplastic from my hand. The vat gurgles and it hands it to one of the mannequins holding the Doctor. He continues to struggle, his eyes never leaving my form. I'm dragged to standing once again, and my head reels uncomfortably.

There's a faint whirling sound that reaches my confused mind, and then the Consciousness is screeching in rage. I don't have the strength to turn, but I can hear the gasp of the Doctor, and my conclusion is that the TARDIS showed up. He tries to plead, saying that he came with the intention to make peace. The Consciousness doesn't listen. Although I can't understand it, I know it's instructions when the mannequin holding me pushes me forward.

Looks like I'm to be dinner.

"No! Stop it, let her go!" The Doctor shouts. My fear hasn't come yet, and I realize I'm in shock. There's nothing. I feel like this is a sequence of events that doesn't change.

Weirdly, the urge to comfort the Doctor surfaces. I want to tell him that it'll be okay, and I want to tell him thank you. I want him to be okay, despite my own predicament.

"Abby!" Rose screams. The heat of the vat starts to burn my face, the mannequin behind me slackens it's hold, preparing for one final push.

My eyes find the Doctor's, like they're meant to. He looks angry and distraught, struggling fiercely against this captors. I want to comfort him, but there are different words that _must_ be said. I open my mouth and utter three final words.

"Please save Rose."

The final shove comes, and the world tips.


End file.
